


Dawn Felagund's 2005 Birthday Presents

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2005-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My request is for drabbles (or whatever) pertaining to Feanor's family. Only I don't want horrible angst and blood and gore and kinslaying--it's my birthday, and I want to think happy thoughts!  Instead, I would like ordinary or joyful moments involving the Feanorians. You may involve any other characters that you can weasel into the tale--First Age or not--but I ask for a Feanorian at the center, and in a good mood for a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harmony - by Tanaqui

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Elrond looked up from fingers drawing melodies out of his harp like ripples on a stream. Birdsong trills were skylarking from the flute into which his brother breathed life.

Their gazes met. Then Elros glanced over to where another leant against a tree, his rich voice rolling out over the forest, telling of other woods he might wander no more. With unspoken signal, the brethren stilled their music.

After a moment Maglor, too, faltered. He turned, frowning. “Why--?”

Elros smiled. “We would rather hear you without the distraction of trying not to mar your performance with our own fumblings.”

***

Great was the sorrow of Eärendil and Elwing for the ruin of the havens of Sirion, and the captivity of their sons, and they feared that they would be slain; but it was not so. For Maglor took pity upon Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought….

_The Silmarillion_ , Quenta Silmarillion, Ch 24, _Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath_


	2. Another Prometheus--by Gandalfs apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My request is for drabbles (or whatever) pertaining to Feanor's family. Only I don't want horrible angst and blood and gore and kinslaying--it's my birthday, and I want to think happy thoughts! Instead, I would like ordinary or joyful moments involving the Feanorians. You may involve any other characters that you can weasel into the tale--First Age or not--but I ask for a Feanorian at the center, and in a good mood for a change.

The teacher gazed at the intent faces of the young men and women before him. 

"The loremasters claim there is only one possible interpretation of the myth of Fëanor. I disagree. Both his glory and his disgrace come from the will to master fate and find freedom from the tyranny of the elements. He strove for knowledge and skill for all. No longer would power be only the province of the gods. For this ungodly pride he lost his life.

"Those who seek to better the lot of our fellow men honor him as the greatest of friends. Praise him!"


	3. Strong Spirits by Gwynnyd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My request is for drabbles (or whatever) pertaining to Feanor's family. Only I don't want horrible angst and blood and gore and kinslaying--it's my birthday, and I want to think happy thoughts! Instead, I would like ordinary or joyful moments involving the Feanorians. You may involve any other characters that you can weasel into the tale--First Age or not--but I ask for a Feanorian at the center, and in a good mood for a change.

I understand metal and fire, light and crystal, but the soft things elude me. The sponge, held in a beloved's hand, sluices the grime from the forge off my chest.  I tremble from other than chill, heat erupting under tender ministrations; gentle fingers run the towel over the curves of my body.  What is this unbounded, inexhaustible power that she has?  We have sons – tall, proud sons – and still the copper strands of her hair weave their net around my heart and her soft eyes plead.  I know that look.  _Another_ child?  I am lost in her softness, and agree.


	4. Our Little Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My request is for drabbles (or whatever) pertaining to Feanor's family. Only I don't want horrible angst and blood and gore and kinslaying--it's my birthday, and I want to think happy thoughts! Instead, I would like ordinary or joyful moments involving the Feanorians. You may involve any other characters that you can weasel into the tale--First Age or not--but I ask for a Feanorian at the center, and in a good mood for a change.

Silently, Fëanáro snuck up behind the elfling, lifted him into the air, and placed a swift kiss on his nose. The elfling giggled, then tried to look offended and wiped at his nose. Fëanáro chuckled. 

"You do not like me any longer, indyo?" 

"I'm too old to be kissed!" Tyelpinquar declared. 

"Are you now? That's right, you are sixteen now! How forgetful of me! Perhaps I can amend that. I have something for you."

"For me? What is it?" Tyelpinquar's eyes sparkled.

"Why, 'tis a jewel, made especially for you!" 

"A jewel?" 

Fëanáro laughed and whispered, "Aye, but not just any jewel! This jewel you may eat!" He pressed a small chunk of crystal blue sugar into his grandson's hands. 

"A jewel you can eat?!" 

"Ai, not so loud, indyo. Yes, a jewel you can eat." 

Tyelpinquar studied the crystal for a moment, then popped it in his mouth. 

"But there is one thing you must do." 

"What's that?" the elfling asked.

"This is a top secret project. You must keep it secret," Fëanáro said solemnly. Tyelpinquar nodded, grinning, and put a finger to his lips. 

"Our secret." 

Fëanáro grinned back, kissing Tyelpinquar's nose again. This time Tyelpinquar allowed it. 


	5. "Cold Like Fire" by JunoMagic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My request is for drabbles (or whatever) pertaining to Feanor's family. Only I don't want horrible angst and blood and gore and kinslaying--it's my birthday, and I want to think happy thoughts! Instead, I would like ordinary or joyful moments involving the Feanorians. You may involve any other characters that you can weasel into the tale--First Age or not--but I ask for a Feanorian at the center, and in a good mood for a change.

  


"The Sea of Ice" (1824) by [Caspar David Friedrich](http://www.artrenewal.org/asp/database/art.asp?aid=179) (1774-1840)

Cold Like Fire

White and pure, she had always imagined ice floes to be. And easily floating, delicate wonders of Eru's design, the sweetest of waters, solidified, swept up by the bitterness of salty floods below.

_Now here she was._

The ice shone green and black and blue, grinding and moaning, breaking under their feet. The air so cold it burned her lungs like fire.

_Now she was here._

Fell deeds and fey oaths had led them forth; no less than fitting that they should not find purity here, to cool and soothe their angry spirits. Just reward, to meet a cold that burned as true as the fire that had sent them forth.

_But here she was._

She was here. Tears froze into glittering pearls around her lashes, her eyes gleamed green and blue like the ice to her feet. Too many were not. Faltering spirits or failing bodies had sent too many back from whence they had come, houseless fëa born crying on the icy winds. Yet she was still here. Every careful inhalation sent a sense of prickling exhilaration coursing through her body.

_She was here._

She had reason for hatred now, where once there had been merely a faint distaste born of envy. She had reason for a bitterness now as bleak and grinding as the ice of the Helcaraxë. Yet she felt it not. If anything, she felt a strange kinship to that spirit of fire who had led them forth and abandoned them. She shuddered. Had she been in his stead, would she have stayed her hand in time? Or would she, too, have sealed the destiny of her people, as he had done?

But oath or no oath… 

_Here she was._

The icy cold of the far North suffused the woman who would once be called Galadriel. It roused in her a fire equal to the one burning in the soul of the High Prince and self-proclaimed King of the Noldor. Her feet did not slip as she moved along on the ice. Ice that was black, blue and green, with shards that tore through her shoes and coloured her foot prints red with blood. And though the fire of the North made her spirit burn, it did not consume her.

_Here._

For while her fire was fey and fierce, it was a cold fire, this fire won in the North, on narrow painful paths through the grinding ice of the Helcaraxë. Paths that would be found only twice in all the long ages. Once by a spirit of shadow, once by a spirit of light.

_Here._

Under the silver moon, their trumpets finally rang out in triumph. Echoes raised of unholy cries were lost amid the golden ululations of the Noldorin fanfares. Her soul answered the song of the trumpets. The air was wild and free and sweet. Wide lands beckoned. Destiny waited to be made her own.

_Here._

Her heart beat heavily.  
Cold fire glowed in her eyes.

_She was here._

Thank you, Fëanáro.

  



End file.
